


Handmade

by BearWithAHat



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 17th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Charles is only here for like a few seconds sry, First Meetings, Inspired by Novel, M/M, Meet-Cute, Miniaturism, Short & Sweet, Symbolism, idk what this is, lando is really shy in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearWithAHat/pseuds/BearWithAHat
Summary: Max needs a birthday present for his sister; he meets a young craftsman who catches his eye.
Relationships: Lando Norris/Max Verstappen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Handmade

**Author's Note:**

> I have a thing for writing historical au's 👉👈 this is inspired by the book 'The Miniaturist', only in that there is a character who creates miniature items hehe.
> 
> anyways this takes place in the late 1600's. im sorry if this is like weird or whatever, I just felt sad and writing historical aus makes me feel better.

Max groaned as another gust of wind stung at his cheeks and nipped at his nose. He buried his hands in the soft material of his cloak, squinting in the dull grey morning light and looking over the different shops that were open in the center of town. The sun wasn't interested in coming out from it's perch in the clouds, and so Max was left as one of many pedestrians who wanted to get out of the bleak cold.

Eventually he ducked into a little store on the corner of the street, the _miniaturist's shop_ , as the sign read. It was one of those buildings that was clearly built as a home at first, and the lower level had been made into a store. Max wondered who was living up in the second level of the home, where a few bits of candlelight peeked through the half-drawn curtains, as business as usual went on down below. He pushed the dark wooden door open and the sound of the floorboards creaking at his first step was almost louder than the squeak of the door on it's hinges.

Inside were many shelves full of items that were crafted by hand. Max found himself as one of a few people enraptured in the miniature world in front of him, and he carefully began to study the objects nearest to the door. His eyes wandered over tiny, intricate pieces of furniture, which were made to be nearly a twelfth of the size of the items they were modeled after. 

Max felt himself begin to warm up from the biting cold of the outdoors as he looked over the miniature pieces. There was practically everything under the sun, and Max found himself looking at small quilts that were weaved with the same level of detail of the quilts he slept under, tiny paintings that must have taken painstakingly long to achieve the intricacy that they did, tables and chairs and bookshelves that made Max feel like he was looking at his own kitchen. There were even sculpted bowls of fruit and clay painted to look like fresh bread that adorned the tables, with cloths that were embroidered with fine threads of silk. 

Among other shelves, there were small bed frames with mattresses that looked perfectly comfortable to sleep on if one were shrank down to scale, grandfather clocks, and even minuscule lamps and a fireplace that Max would have loved to cozy up next to. He looked over finely made dolls that lay on another shelf. Their painted faces had peaceful expressions, and their hair was made of the same silky threads that the embroidery was done with. What Max found the most impressive was their clothing. The dolls were all dressed in clothes that were tailored with the precise hands of Max's own tailor, and he gently reached out and brushed his finger along the soft fabric of one doll's ballgown. 

"Are you looking for something specific, sir?" A soft voice rang out behind him, pulling him out of his dazed state of amazement.

He turned around to see a young man in a simple black vest standing in front of him, hands folded like he didn't know what to do with them. Max thought he looked like he could have been one of the dolls on the shelf, with his cheerful expression that he was rather obviously working so hard to keep up. That was just part of working in commerce, Max thought and offered a small smile.

"My sister's birthday is in a few days and I need a gift for her. She has a dollhouse that she likes to collect items for, so I was looking for something to get for her," Max said with a polite nod to the shopkeeper. 

"If you don't see anything that catches your eye, I could take you to speak with the miniaturist. He's working upstairs right now. My name is Charles, sir, if you decide you'd like to," he said, studying Max's features. Charles fit right in with the store; his sweet voice and beautiful face seemed perfectly crafted like all the furniture and tiny articles of clothing that Max had looked at.

Max thanked him and watched as he turned around, mindlessly wandering around the rest of the shop and debating which customer he should aid next. The Dutchman turned to look back at the shelves. He tried to recall what Victoria already had for her dollhouse, and was a bit embarrassed to admit to himself that he didn't take enough care in her hobby to remember what it looked like. Max usually didn't care to see her decorating the house or listen too hard when she talked about getting something new for it. He made a note to start connecting with people more.

Personal guilty aside, Max perused the store for a while, slowly making his way from shelf to shelf and trying to judge what his sister would like. He was afraid that she already had the basics like beds, a table, and tiny cabinets. What he wasn't sure of was if he should get her some larger piece or a few smaller pieces, and so he looked over at the dolls once more. None of them stuck out to him, and Max frowned and bit his lip when he had made it around the whole store but hadn't found something to buy.

He stood up and peered around for Charles. The shopkeeper must have had a sense for when customers needed him, for he came practically skipping up to Max when he began looking for him.

"I think I'd like to speak to the miniaturist, does he take commissions?" Max asked. 

Charles nodded with a pleasant look on his face and said, "yes, he'd be happy to create what you ask for. It will cost a slightly higher price, but having a personalized piece is worth it."

Max followed as Charles led him up a narrow staircase that twisted and turned until they were at the second level. Here, the floorboards were a little less creaky and things were much quieter. The sounds of people bustling about outside did not seep through the walls as much, and the sound of ladies' skirts rustling and men's dress shoes clattering on the floor were not breaking the silence.

In the sole room of the upper floor, there were many shelves like on the first floor. However, they were not filled with products for sale; instead they held materials used to make the miniatures. Scraps of wood, fabrics of all different texture and patterns, wool, feathers, and many more materials were arranged as neatly as possible. There was a cabinet full of threads, needles, pins, and other sewing supplies in one corner too.

A cluttered desk was at the center of the room. Little clay pots that had been freshly painted sat in one corner, drying and waiting to be put on display, while tiny wooden pieces of furniture sat at another corner of the desk, their recently applied varnish glittering in the soft candlelight.

Hunched over the desk was a boy who looked to be only a few years younger than Max. He was focused on his work, carving a pattern into a small chair, and did not hear anybody come upstairs. When Charles cleared his throat, he dropped his knife and seemed to jump out of his chair, looking up at them like he was a deer staring down a hunting party. 

"Lando, we have a customer who is interested in getting a commission done," Charles announced before leaving to return downstairs.

Max hesitantly took a step toward Lando, afraid that he was scaring him. Lando seemed to curl up into himself as Max came closer and eventually he averted his eyes from him, choosing instead to look intensely at the chair he was in the process of carving. His messy, curly hair hid much of his shy face when he looked down, but Max could still see the hint of a red blush on Lando's cheeks.

"Um, hello, my name is Max. I need to get something for my sister's birthday and I'd like to get something made for her, if you can do that," Max introduced himself when he stopped a little ways away from Lando's desk.

Lando peeked up at him through his long eyelashes and soft brown hair. For a moment, Max thought he was going to say something, however all he got from the boy was a quick nod. He wasn't sure what to say after that and stood there awkwardly until Lando eventually said something.

"What do you want me to make?" he asked quietly. His voice was gentle with just the slightest hint of unsureness, as if he were still trying to determine if Max was alright to be around or not.

"Well...I don't really know, as unhelpful as that probably is," Max sighed, and he fiddled with the edge of his gloves as he wracked his brain for something good, "I think maybe a decoration item of some sort, like a sculpture or a plant, if that's possible."

"I can do that," Lando murmured. He gave Max another glance before averting his gaze and pushing the chair he had been working on out of the way. As he got up and began to rummage through one of his cabinets for materials, he said, "it should take a few hours."

Max watched him sift through his cabinets, setting a thin slate of wood, a few carving tools, glue, and some paints onto his desk and nudging the cabinet closed with his knee. Lando looked rather flushed when he noticed that Max was watching him, and he fumbled with the items in his hand and cursed under his breath. Not wanting to stress him out, Max turned away and strode over to the window on the front of the building. He peered out and frowned when he noticed the heavy rain beginning to fall.

It shouldn't have surprised him that it was raining, given how cloudy and gray it had been while he walked to town. Max still didn't want to walk through the cold and rain, and so he considered asking if he could stay and wait out the rain, but Lando seemed shy with him there already and he didn't want to be too much of a bother to him.

As if he could read his thoughts, Lando perked up and offered, "you can stay, if you want..."

"If you're sure I wouldn't be impeding you, I think I will. It's cold enough even without the rain," Max smiled at him and took a seat in the opposite corner of the room. 

The chair was a bit stiff, but it was comfortable enough and Max settled in, watching the rain drip down the old window. There was little noise except for the rain gently hitting the rooftop and the sound of Lando methodically carving into the wood. The Brit quickly became very focused in his work, furrowing his brow and occasionally poking the tip of his tongue between his lips as he carved the more intricate parts of whatever he had decided to make.

Max wasn't sure if he should try to make conversation with Lando. When he tried to think of something to say that would flow naturally, nothing really came to mind, and so Max simply sat there and watched him.

Occasionally, Lando glanced up at him. He would always stare just for a few seconds, peering out from behind the curls of hair falling in front of his face. His soft doe eyes made Max feel warm and cozy, but he never got to see them for long. Whenever he met Lando's curious gaze, the miniaturist would quickly look away with a red blush on his cheeks, focusing on his sculptures again.

It made him want to get past whatever walls Lando was hiding behind. Max couldn't explain why he found him intriguing, but he did. He found it fascinating that the shy, young boy in front of him who seemed as flighty as a bird had been the one who carefully and lovingly crafted all the beautiful items downstairs. Max wondered what inspired him to work.

He wanted to know what went on in Lando's mind when he was making something; did he see things in his own life that he felt the desire to create on a miniature scale, bringing them from the real world to the world of the dolls he made? Or did he create them in his mind, creating his own world that he could conjure up in the physical realm however he liked?

Max's eyelids began to feel heavy. The rhythmic rain and Lando etching into wood lulled him further into unconsciousness. He had removed his coat and was holding it in his arms, and as he slowly slipped into sleep, it fell from his ams and settled on the wooden floorboards. Max didn't even notice, for he was in a comfortable sleep by the time that it lay in a heap.

* * *

When he woke up some hours later, Max noticed that someone had placed a warm quilt over him. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, sitting up and stretching his back which was sore from sleeping in the chair. Standing up, Max folded the quilt and set it on the seat of the chair, then leaning down to collect his fallen cloak.

Lando sat at his desk still, another candle burning by his side. There was a small bag set on the corner of the desk closest to Max, and he could see that Lando was now back to working on engraving the chair he had worked on before Max's arrival. Figuring he was finished with his order, Max carefully picked up the bag, looking to Lando to make sure that the contents of the bag were for him. Lando nodded and Max delicately pulled the string that kept it closed, peering inside at the little creations.

There was a miniature replica of a potted plant. The wooden plant box looked just like those that hung outside the windows of many buildings that Max passed by in town. Little wooden strips had been glued together to create a rich oak box, and there were even silver beads glued between the panels to mimic nails. Inside, there were little flowers. Their stems were made from thin wire that was wrapped with green silk thread, and the flowers themselves appeared to be made from soft felt.

Alongside the boxed flowers was a little weaved basket. Like the flowers, it was made from thin wire wrapped in silk thread, and these wires were woven together just like a real basket. Inside there were a variety of tiny sculpted food items. Max pulled the sculptures out with his finger and looked at a clay baguette, the impressive details of which made it look like it would crackle like the bread that Max had been served with his breakfast that morning. There were little fruits with it too, an apple which shone with the healthiness of springtime and berries that would have made a fine wine.

Max smiled and put the miniatures back into their bag. He tied the string to keep it closed and tucked it into his pocket, shrugging his coat back on and digging around for his wallet in the cloak's pocket. Lando shyly accepted his money and when Max was about to leave to go down the stairs, he suddenly stood up, the chair making a harsh sound against the floor.

"Wait," Lando murmured, "that's for your sister, but I made something for you too."

Lando padded over to him and took Max's hand. He had something curled in his own hand, and he carefully uncurled his fingers to press something into Max's palm. Max felt all warm and fuzzy inside and he watched with a small smile as Lando scampered back to his desk.

Max looked down at his hand. There was a small ceramic dove, lovingly sculpted by the boy at the desk. It was sculpted to be sitting peacefully, its wings folded at its sides, and Max softly ran his thumb over the smooth texture of the dove. He squeezed it between his fingers before tucking it into his breastpocket.

"Thank you," Max warmly said to Lando, and Lando gave him a tentative smile as a goodbye.

He made his way back down the creaky stairs, from the quiet and peaceful workshop of the upper level and back into the store, back into society itself. Charles spotted him and asked, "is there anything else I can help you with today, sir?"

Max considered the question for a moment.

"Do you know anything about doves? Like, what they mean?" Max decided to ask. Charles raised an eyebrow and his face blossomed into a pleasant look.

"Ah, the dove represents love. Pure love, that is, doves often symbolize all the good parts of being in love with someone," Charles mused knowingly. He watched as Max looked down at the floorboards, unable to stop his cheeks from flushing red with warmth. Charles chuckled and said, "feel free to come back, I think the young man upstairs would be happy to craft some more for you."

Max nodded and said a thanks, the giddy feeling in his stomach never ceasing. He wrapped his cloak further around himself and pushed his way through the shop's door and out into the world. 

Despite the rain outside, Max's spirits weren't dampened at all; the son shone brighter than usual in his world even if there were clouds overhead.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe i'll write more of this au someday idk
> 
> find me on tumblr @esteboo-ocon


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